


Hermione Granger and the Black Hearted Prince

by TheGirlBeyondTheWall



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Dubious Consent, F/M, Master/Slave, Rough Sex
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-28
Updated: 2020-12-04
Packaged: 2021-03-09 04:55:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 7,956
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27239149
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheGirlBeyondTheWall/pseuds/TheGirlBeyondTheWall
Summary: Harry Potter is dead, and the war between the Ministry of Magic and the Death Eaters is over. Voldemort has officially taken over the wizarding world. Those who oppose his rule are either dead or in chains. Just when Hermione is about to give up all hope, Draco Malfoy appears. He says he can free her from her iron chains under one condition- she has to bind herself to him forever.
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy
Comments: 35
Kudos: 171





	1. Chapter 1

The room they kept her and the other girls in was cold and dark, save the one light that hung in the center of the room. It swayed back and forth casting warm beams on the young witches they stuffed in the filthy iron cages that filled the basement of this retired old manor. There were three girls to a crate, and they all fought for a chance to be under the warm light. Hermione would watch as they kicked, scratched, and bit one another, all for a few moments of artificial sun.

Yesterday, she looked on as one girl with matted blonde hair, bashed her cellmate’s head into the iron bars, all because she refused to give up her seat in the light. Hermione’s cage was tucked away in the corner, in the far back of the room, away from everyone and everything, but more importantly, far away from the swinging lightbulb in the center of the room.

She wasn’t sure how long they’d all been down here, days, weeks? There was no way to know for sure. All she knew was that they threw a few more in each week. It was the same song and dance with each of them. They would shout and bang their fist on the bars the first few days, then on the third day, that’s when reality set in and the tears would start to fall. They would sob, and they would wail so loud that the others would shout at them to shut up. And then finally, on the fifth day, there was silence. The silence meant many things, but more than anything, it meant they had finally accepted their fate.

Hermione was one of the first to be captured. A death eater with a scar under his right eye caught her just outside of Hogsmeade. She had been separated from Harry and the others when she found herself surrounded. Not long after she was told the war was over, that Voldemort had won, and Harry Potter, one of her best friends in the entire world, was dead. At first, she didn’t want to believe it, but as time passed, she had no choice but to accept the truth. And now, a part of her wanted to die too.

Hermione felt her small cell rattle just before a loud crackle reverberated across the room. There was a thunderstorm approaching. Hermione quickly picked herself up from the stone floor and crawled on her knees to the back of her cage. The iron bars didn’t touch the wall, but if she pushed her face as far as she could between two rods and stuck out her tongue, she could catch a bit of rainwater that would run down the walls from a leak on the first floor.

Hermione heard a pair of footsteps coming down the basement stairs and she quickly flung herself into the corner of her cage and tried to make herself as small as possible. She didn’t hear screaming or crying, which could only mean one thing, they weren’t bringing someone down, they were taking someone up.

Hermione didn’t recognize this Death Eater. His hair was white and peppered with grey, and he wore a scowl better than anyone she’d ever seen. She watched as he squinted in the darkness. Each crate had a number, and he was searching for a specific one.

When he reached Hermione’s cage he gave her a toothless smile, “There you are.”

As badly as Hermione wanted to leave her small prison, now that the time had come, she couldn’t bring herself to move.

“Come on, now,” The old man bent down and slapped his knees and tried to coax her out like a human would a dog. “Let’s go, we got someone here for ya.”

When she wouldn’t budge, he stuck his arm into the crate with lightning speed and yanked her out by her hair. Hermione screamed and tried to fight him, but it was no use, she was frail from weeks without eating. When she stopped thrashing, he picked her up and slung her thin frame over his shoulder. Soon he was carrying her upstairs to whatever fate awaited her.


	2. Chapter 2

The wizard with the scowl whistled as he carried Hermione up the creaky old steps, and she watched with dread, as the girls in matted robes with dirty, tear-stained faces disappear as they ascended to the top of the stairs.

When he pushed opened the door to the first floor of the manor, a blinding light forced her to shut her eyes as tightly as she could. The penetrating beams were so bright that she saw red through her eyelids.

With each heavy step the wizard took, he disturbed the dust beneath his feet, and it floated up like billowing puffs of smoke.

A searing pain shot through Hermione’s shoulder when he tossed her carelessly to the floor a few moments later.

“Hey,” A wizard’s voice she had come to know as Avery called out. “Easy with the merchandise.”

Hermione moaned, and rolled onto her back. When she attempted to open her eyes again, she braced herself, holding a weak hand in front of her face.

When her eyes adjusted, she saw that the room he had taken her to was small, but well lit. A large window with no curtains was positioned in the center of a moldy, termite infested wall, and she gazed out of it in awe.

The sun was shining brightly as the rainclouds ventured North, revealing an orange and purple sky. Her eyes fluttered closed as she savored the feel of the rays on her face. It was so warm. So bright. She hardly noticed the witch in red robes standing near a tall fireplace as she soaked up as much warmth as she could.

“Is this the only one you have?” The witch in red asked him in a disappointed voice.

“Yep,” Avery confirmed. “The rest are either pureblood or half. We haven’t come across any squibs yet.”

“I don’t take squibs,” She said distastefully. “It’s called the Mudblood Market, not the squib market.”

“Right.” Avery nodded. “Now about payment-”

“You’ll get half of what was agreed,” She told him curtly, as she eyed the lifeless witch at her feet.

“Half?” He yelled.

“Yes, half.”

“What about our agreement?” He scoffed like a child.

“It’s quite simple, Mr. Avery,” The witch explained, putting on her long silk black gloves. “When you go to the store to buy an apple, do you want to pay full price for the shiny red one, or the bruised and blemished green one?”

Avery looked as though he were trying to solve a math problem in his head. “The red one. Yeah definitely the red one,” He eventually answered with a dumb smile on his face.

“Exactly.” Her red lips curled into a smile. “You have a bruised apple, therefore, I’ll be paying half of what was promised.”

Avery gave her a sour look.

“Fine.” He eventually muttered. “But you take her as is.”

The woman smiled wickedly and snapped her fingers. An elf appeared at her side.

“Ruby, grab the girl.” She told the elf. “We have work to do.”

Hermione rolled on her stomach and attempted to crawl for the door, but it was a feeble attempt at escape as she heard the witch behind her cast a sleeping hex.

_“Somnium!”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Up next- The Mudblood Market!!


	3. Chapter 3

The next thing Hermione knew, she was being jolted awake by the sensation of ice-cold water on her bare skin. She shook her wet hair out of her face, and looked around frantically at her new, unfamiliar surroundings.

The elf had placed her in a porcelain bathtub with freezing water that was filled to the brim.

“What are you doing?” Hermione squealed, covering her bare chest with her hands, her frantic movements caused water to splash onto the shiny, checkered, black and white floor.

“Ruby is cleaning the mudblood,” The elf said. “What Madam Red says to do, Ruby does.”

Water. Before the conscious thought occurred to her, Hermione was scooping up small puddles of it with her hands and slurping it up as fast as she could.

“It’s not supposed to do that,” Ruby said, slapping her on the back with a long-polished stick causing Hermione to choke. “It’s dirty. The mudblood already soiled it.”

“You mean me.” Hermione said through chattering teeth. “I soiled it. You don’t have to talk about me as if I’m not here, you know.”

The elf ignored her and continued to talk to herself.

“Smelly, smelly mudblood.” She muttered as she picked up a sponge and scrubbed her back as hard as she could.

“Ow,” Hermione hissed, recoiling from the elfs rough touch. “You’re hurting me.”

“We has to clean it,” Ruby told her. “It’s smelly.”

“You don’t have to be so rough,” Hermione told her, even though deep down she knew the elf didn’t care.

When the elf was satisfied that Hermione was clean, and her bathwater had turned into a murky grey, the elf handed her a fresh towel and clothes and told her to get dressed before disappearing with a loud crack.

Hermione stood up in the dirty bathwater and wrapped the towel around herself, in doing so her eyes caught site of the door. The odds of it being unlocked were slim, but she still had to try. She stepped out of the tub and reached for the doorknob, giving it a slight shake. It was locked.

Hermione sighed and looked down at the garment the elf had given her. It was a pale pink nightdress with a lace robe. “What on earth?” She whispered to herself. These weren’t clothes. That’s when a disturbing thought occurred to her. She was being put on display.

The moment Hermione slipped the nightdress over her head, the door to the bathroom opened. It was Madam Red.

“Wonderful,” She said, eyeing Hermione up and down. “I wasn’t sure whether to go with the pink or blue, but I think the pink suits you just fine.”

“Where am I?” Hermione wrapped her arms tightly around her chest.

“You’re at Madam Reds, dear.” The witch told her sweetly.

“What are you going to do to me?” Hermione asked her, afraid of the answer she might give.

“I’m not going to do anything, except for give you this,” The witch in red handed her a small black vial.” Now follow me.”

Hermione studied the foreign potion in her hand. She’d never seen one like it before.

“Hurry along,” The witch called. “And don’t think about running. There’s only one way out of this place and it requires magic.”

Despite the urge to run, Hermione thought it better to follow the rules for the time being. She shadowed Madam red all the way down a long candle lit hallway with several doors before stopping at door number thirteen.

“This,” Madam Red told her. “This is your room.”

Madam Red pushed the door open with ease.

Like the hallway, the room was candle lit. The chamber itself was beautifully decorated, with portraits on the walls and a magnificent four poster bed littered with an array of soft feathered pillows.

“Come sit,” Madam Red patted the front of the mattress.

As soon as Hermione obeyed, a silver cuff closed around her ankle, chaining her to the bed.

“No,” Hermione cried, trying with all her might to pry her ankle from the chain. “Please don’t.”

“Now, now.” Madam Red cooed. “There’s no need to throw a fit. You’ll wrinkle your nightdress.”

Hot tears spilled from Hermione’s eyes, “Why are you doing this?”

“Because dear, I have a business to run,” Madam Red's voice switched from kind to cold in a matter of seconds. “And as much as I’d love to go into detail with vermin like you, I’m on a tight schedule. Now, you have two choices. You can either sit here awake, while my clients come to inspect your goods, or you can take that sleeping draught so you don’t have to remember a thing. This will repeat nightly until you have a buyer. I’d ask if you have any questions, but frankly I don’t care. Now, I have customers to greet. The first guest will be here in five.”

Hermione’s heart filled with dread as Madam red closed the door behind her. Buyer? She was being sold?

Hermione bit her bottom lip as the tears continued to spill from her eyes. She turned the small vial over in her hand, contemplating her next move. As much as she didn’t want to be a party to whatever happened next, she couldn’t bare the thought of not ever knowing what was done to her.

Hermione laid down on the bed, slid the vial under the pillow, and closed her eyes. When the guest showed up she would pretend she was asleep, and hopefully, by the grace of god, they’d lose interest and go away.

Hermione’s stomach dropped when she heard the door to her room open.

“This way Mr. Malfoy,” Said Madam Red. “I think you’ll like this one.”

“I’ll be sure to let you know,” She heard Draco say. He didn’t sound amused.

Hermione tried to steady her breathing as the door to her room clicked closed.

She heard Draco sigh as he walked towards something. He sounded far away, and not at all near the bed.

She cracked her eyes open slightly and saw that his back was towards her. He was staring at the portraits on the opposite wall.

“This is ridiculous,” She heard him mutter.

She quickly snapped her eyes shut when he started to turn towards her. She heard his footsteps approaching and she held her breath.

“Bloody Hell,” She heard him whisper.

Hermione tried to remain as motionless as possible despite the fact that her entire body was shaking.

She could sense Draco standing near the bedside when a warm hand touched her face. His fingers were soft, almost gentle as they traced the contours of her cheek.

“Gods, Granger.” Draco said in a low voice. “What did they do to you….”


	4. Chapter 4

Hermione’s breathing stilled as her long-time rival grazed her cheek with his fingertips. When she felt his hand pull away, she released the breath she hadn’t realized she was holding.

Her mind raced in that moment. Draco was the only familiar face she’d seen in months, and despite being her adversary, she knew one thing for certain, she would always be safer with the enemy she knew.

When Draco turned from her, Hermione bolted up right into a sitting position and snatched him by the wrist.

Startled, Draco tried to yank his hand away, but her grip was solid.

“Bloody Hell, Granger,” He cursed in surprise.

“Malfoy, please,” She begged, her big brown eyes pleading with his piercing blue gaze. “I need your help.”

Draco stared after her, confused and awestruck, as she held onto him with a sad desperation in her eyes.

“I can’t stay here,” She told him in a quivering voice.

Draco stared at her a moment, unable to speak as he tried to absorb what she was saying.

“Sorry, Granger,” He said after regaining his composure, his harsh, pitiless tone overtaking him once more. “I’m not in the market for a mudblood.”

Hermione sat back and let his wrist slip from her grasp. “Then what are you doing in a place like this?”

She watched as Draco’s eyes cast over her, taking in her battered body and weakened condition.

“Humoring Madam Red,” He told her bitterly. “She sent every pureblood family worth mentioning an invitation. It’s politics really.”

“An invitation to what exactly?” She looked around, hopelessly, understanding nothing about how the other half lived.

“A mudblood of their choosing,” He said, as if it were obvious.

“So we’re to be passed around and … and ,” She stopped and closed her eyes, unable to continue.

“Not exactly,” He sighed before continuing. “This bed is a contract, and the only way that shackle is coming off your ankle is when some wizard decides to bind you to him.”

“Bind me …,” Hermione uttered the words, unsure of what they meant.

“It’s an ancient pureblood tradition,” Draco explained, “One that Madam Red has taken upon herself to resurrect with the return of the Dark Lord.”

Hermione let the severity of the situation sink in for a moment. She wasn’t sure which was worse, her previous thoughts of her body being used over and over again by countless strangers, or of being permanently bound to someone as a slave for the rest of her life and her free will being forfeit forever. She realized quickly, however, that her rights had been stripped from her a long time ago, when they threw her down in that pitch-black cell.  


Hermione closed her eyes as the torturous words left her lips. “Could you do it?” She asked him with the last shred of bravery she had left.

Draco stared at her, his icy blue eyes narrowed in disbelief, as if he couldn’t trust his own ears. “I don’t think you heard me correctly, Granger,” His deep voice said slowly, emphasizing each and every word for clarity’s sake. “I would have to fuck you in order for that chain to come off, and then you would be bound to me for the rest of your miserable life-”

“I know the gravity of what I’m asking,” Hermione interrupted him. “I no longer have control over what happens to me … just please, let me choose this one last thing.”

Screams of agony could be heard coming from the room next door causing Hermione to wrap her arms protectively around herself.

“As entertaining as your proposition is, Granger,” Draco said in a callous tone. “I have zero interest in being bound to you for the rest of my life.”

Hermione stood up and pulled the heavy chain with her hands and dragged it until she was standing face to face with him. “Malfoy, Please … I know you despise me. I know you hate my filthy blood, but I promise, if you bind me to you, I’ll make myself as scarce as possible, I’ll do whatever it is you want me to do without complaint.”

Draco looked down at her, his porcelain features unreadable as she searched his face.

“I’ll make you a deal, Granger,” He told her in a dangerously low voice. “If you can somehow, by the grace of Salazar, make me desire you even if only for a split second, I’ll do what you ask.” He told her. “Just remember, there’s no going back once the deed is done and that shackle comes off. You belong to me then.”

  
  



	5. Chapter 5

“I’ll make you a deal, Granger,” Draco said in a dangerously low voice. “If you can somehow, by the grace of Salazar, make me desire you … even if only for a split second, I’ll do what you ask.” He told her. “Just remember, there’s no going back once the deed is done and that shackle comes off. You belong to me then.”

Hermione sunk under the intensity of his gaze. He hated her. No. He loathed her with a passion. How in the world was she supposed to make him desire her? She had zero experience with the opposite sex, save for a few sloppy kisses with Ron, and a fleeting romance with Victor Krum that never extended beyond the groping stage.

“I’m waiting, Granger,” He whispered, his voice a low growl.

Hermione’s hands trembled as she reached out to touch him, placing her smalls hands flat on his chest, preparing to slide his black robe off his proud, prominent shoulders. When her eye’s met his for the briefest of moments, she could see his bored expression and she immediately took a step back from him, unsure of herself, unsure of him as the odds of this happening slid further out of her favor.

Hermione inhaled a shaky breath and tried to think of what to do next. She understood anatomy just fine, she’d read plenty of books on safety and intercourse. However, It was one thing to read a list of facts on a page, and something entirely different to stand before a person and be challenged to make their body respond the way it should.

Perhaps, she was going about the whole situation wrong. Men tended to respond to visual motivation. It was a psychological fact that men responded strongly to nude female bodies, sometimes despite attraction, for the sole purpose of procreation. With a scientific backed plan in mind, she decided to slide the straps of her nightdress off her shoulders, but before she got the chance the wizard before her stopped her in her tracks.

“You’re going to have to do better than that, Granger,” He said in a dull voice.

Hermione rolled her eyes and sighed, letting her hands fall to her side. She was growing increasingly frustrated at his lack of cooperation.

“Is this how you seduced the weasel?” He mocked her, turning his head slightly so that his blond hair fell across his porcelain face. “All it took was one flash of your tits and he was cumming in his trousers?”

Hermione felt an embarrassing heat flush her face. “That's rich, Malfoy, especially coming from someone who prides himself in charming a whiny pug.” She snapped back.

Draco chuckled, darkly, “Better to charm a whiny pug than a dirty mudblood.”

Hermione’s warm brown eyes turned to molten honey. “I hate you.” She hissed. She realized then that he had no real intention of helping her.

Draco smirked.

Hermione’s blood was boiling as she gazed up at him. She had had enough of this stupid game. She stood on her tiptoes until her lips were a breath away from his, with the same intensity as a lion before it devoured its prey. “I would rather a clueless weasel touch me than a filthy ferret anyway …” She let the words cut across his face in warm fumes, never once breaking eye contact.

As soon as those words left her lips, Draco’s eyes glossed over with a lustful vengeance.

“There’s the Granger I remember,” He whispered, studying each shade of brown in her eyes, from the dark chocolate abyss to the sparkling topaz.

Hermione steadied her breathing as she held his gaze, pure raw adrenaline pumping through her veins.

“Damn it, Granger,” He growled, grabbing a fistful of her hair, and pulling her head back. “Forever’s a long time….” He said, almost regretfully, before trailing off and capturing her lips with his own in a harsh, punishing kiss.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry, guys. I've been sitting on this chapter for a while now. I hope to have another chapter up by tomorrow.

Hermione’s blood was boiling as she gazed up at him. She had had enough of this stupid game. She stood on her tiptoes until her lips were a breath away from his, with the same intensity as a lion before it devoured its prey. “I would rather a clueless weasel touch me than a filthy ferret anyway.” She let the words cut across his face like a lash of fire, never once breaking eye contact.

As soon as those words departed her mouth, Draco’s eyes glossed over with a lustful vengeance.

“There’s the Granger I remember,” He whispered, studying each shade of brown in her eyes, from the dark chocolate abyss to the sparkling golden topaz.

Hermione steadied her breathing as she held his gaze, pure raw adrenaline pumping through her veins.

“Damn it, Granger,” He growled, grabbing a fistful of her hair, and pulling her head back. “Forever’s a long time….” He told her, almost regretfully, before trailing off and capturing her lips with his own in a harsh, punishing kiss.

For a moment, she forgot the pact they had made, she lost sight of her reasons for needing him in that moment and she tried to shove him off her, but it was no use. She was as feeble as a mouse, and he was as strong as a serpent as he entangled her, almost like a snake would its victim. His strong arms encircled her waist and pulled her closer until she could feel the pressure of his arousal press against her stomach.

Draco’s mouth was soft yet bruising as he massaged his lips into hers. When she refused to open her mouth to him, he pulled her head back harder until she eventually yielded, allowing his sweet, forceful tongue to enter her mouth and coax hers out to play. Her body must have consented before her mind did, because while she was still inwardly cursing him, she was pulling his body closer with anxious, eager hands.

Draco released her mouth and looked down at her with glossy, lust-filled eyes. “Come on, Granger,” He whispered tauntingly. “Put that bossy mouth of yours to good use,” His stealthy hand slid up her nightdress and gripped her bare hip, pulling her closer. “What does the lioness want the serpent to do?” He breathed hotly against her flushed mouth.

Hermione’s head was the foggiest it had ever been as Draco held her close to him. She could feel every warm, taunt muscle beneath his dark robes. There was a throbbing ache deep down in her core that she couldn’t quite explain, and she cursed her body for having any reaction at all.

She didn’t understand how it came down to this, how her own body could betray her, and yet here she was, allowing her life-long tormenter, her enemy, corrupt her thoughts with senseless passion.

Hermione stared up into the cerulean shards of his cold grey eyes and brushed her lips playfully against his. “I want you to shut up and fuck me,” She uttered with a boldness that would make even the bravest Gryffindor blush.

Draco’s eyes flashed dangerously as he picked her up and pushed her onto the bed. Hermione crawled backwards on the mattress, half entranced, half afraid as he towered over her and peeled off his robes, tossing them carelessly to the checkered floor.

He was perfect. Every carved inch of his masculine shoulders, every defined crease etched into his abdomen was breathtaking. She hated to admit it, but she’d never seen anything more beautiful. He could put a bloody sculpture to shame with his visage alone.

Draco gave her a devilish smirk, as if he could read her thoughts. This wasn’t right. This wasn’t how her first time was supposed to be. However, none of that mattered when he pried her legs apart and positioned his body between her thighs promising to steal her innocence. All what ifs faded into oblivion when he slowly pushed up her nightdress with his warm hands exposing her to the cool air of the night.

Hermione let a low moan escape her lips when he wrapped his mouth around one of her rosy nipples, flicking it roughly with his skilled tongue. Despite herself, she arched into him as he sucked and lightly nipped at her vulnerable flesh.

When Draco abandoned her breast to capture her mouth, she instinctively wrapped her arms around his neck, welcoming the taste of his sweet affliction. She could feel him unbuckling his pants, and she braced herself when she felt him position his thick, mushroom shaped head at her entrance. Her heart raced. He was big, much too big.

“Shhh…,” He cooed, as her body shook.

Hermione gripped his shoulders when he began massaging the head of his arousal against the building pressure in her clit causing her eyes to roll back. She was wet, so wet, and his cock slipped against her with enticing ease. She wanted more. No, she needed more. With that thought in mind she wrapped her legs around him tightly as he stuck the head of his cock into her tight entrance. Hermione shut her eyes and swallowed the cry in her throat when he plunged inside of her, a low throaty moan escaped from his mouth. It was a tantalizing sound of pleasure and relief.

At first it felt like she was being stabbed with a sharp knife as she adjusted to his girth. Draco bent his head to kiss her once more. It was a slow kiss, a gentle kiss that caught her by surprise.

“Bloody Hell, Granger,” He said as he buried himself all the way inside of her.

Hermione was starting to derive pleasure from the pain as she rocked her hips in unison with his. It didn’t take long for his careful thrusts to turn wanton, as he drove his cock as far into her as he could. A pressure inside of her was building and all it took was one more thrust for her walls to quiver and tighten around his hard length. A euphoria she had never known washed over her entire body as her walls convulsed around him, squeezing, and pulling him in deeper. While she rode the waves of her orgasm, Draco cursed as the throat of her womanhood milked him, causing him to shoot several warm jets of cum deep inside of her.

When Draco collapsed on top of her, exhausted and spent, she felt the iron chain on her ankle click open, crashing loudly to the floor. That's when true panic set it. It was over. That was it. Despite the fact that the chain and cages were gone, she’d never be free again. 


	7. Chapter 7

Hermione felt a sense of shame as she took her first step from the giant marble fireplace and into Malfoy Manor. What made it worse was her unease wasn’t’ caused by her actions, but instead by the false feeling of relief her actions had brought her.   
When her pact with Malfoy was made and the contract was satisfied, she didn’t have to fear going back to that small iron cage, to that damp and sunless place. She didn’t have to dread the thought of countless evil wizards fondling her every night until one chose to bind her to them forever. At least this way she got to choose her own devil, such a pragmatic thing to find comfort in.

She watched as Malfoy handed his cloak to a heavily scarred house elf who greeted them upon their arrival. The elf bowed so low his pointy nose touched the black marble floor before disappearing with a snap. 

Draco walked over to a tall rosewood cocktail cabinet and poured himself a drink. He’d barely said two words to her since they untangled themselves from one another. She half wondered if the teeth of regret had begun gnawing at him already.

Hermione wrapped her arms around herself and examined the walls in the study which were covered in enchanting green tapestries with exquisite silver trimmings. There was a tidy, polished desk which rested between two windows that rose from the dark floor to the curiously high ceiling. Everything in the room appeared normal and hinted very little at the malevolent residents who lived there.

Her eyes glanced to the fair-haired wizard on the other side of the room, her life-long enemy, her unintended savior. He took several sips of something dark before turning his attention back to her. “I’ll have one of the house elves show you to your room.” He said before swiftly exiting the chamber.

Hermione wasn’t sure what she expected being bound to Draco Malfoy. Insults? Most likely. Slights about her dirty blood? Without question. But indifference? She didn’t know how to take it.

After a couple minutes of solitude an elf walked in the room. It was the same one as before. He didn’t bow to her like he did Malfoy, but instead he did something quite peculiar, especially for an elf with pureblood masters such as his. He held open the tall rosewood door and greeted her almost as if she were a person- a guest, someone who wasn’t tainted with dirty blood. “Misses will follow Inigo now.” He told her almost gently.

Hermione was taken aback for a moment, and the small gesture almost made her eyes well up with tears. It had been so long since anyone acknowledged her in such a soft manner. She didn’t know how to take it.

“Thank you, Inigo,” She whispered. Her voice cracked with an emotion she was unsure he’d recognize, but to her surprise Inigo looked her in the eyes and bowed as if he could read her mind. He then turned and made his way down a long hallway lined with portraits which were filled with whispering mouths and curious, judging eyes. 

It was a far walk to the east wing and the manor was surprisingly desolate. At least the hallways and side passages they used to get there were. The manor wasn’t particularly bright or dark. It had an interesting gothic ambience about it, one that you would sit and marvel at as opposed to fear. 

When they made it to the end of another long hallway lined with windows, Inigo pushed open two double doors. “The Misses will sleep here now.” He told her. 

Hermione looked around the massive chamber as well as the several attached open rooms. It looked like an entire house. There was a living area, a study, a bathroom the size of her old bedroom, and a large four poster bed that stood across from a sizeable marble fireplace. This couldn’t be just for her she thought as her hands skimmed across the dark robes that hung in the massive walk in closet lined with mirrors. 

“Inigo,” Hermione said curiously. “Whose rooms are these?”

“Master Malfoys,” The elf said without missing a beat.


	8. Chapter 8

In the middle of Draco’s apartments was a modest, but tightly packed dimly lit library. It was there that Hermione searched for anything she could find related to binding magic and ancient pureblood customs. There was a particular piece on muggle-borns that caught her eye. “A History of Muggle-borns in Europe.” She read aloud, running her finger along the book’s spine.

Hermione grabbed the book and settled into the green velvet couch in the center of the room. Her eyes were heavy, and her body was sore, but she craved as much information about her new circumstances as she could get her hands on. She yawned and cracked open the dusty old book with every intention of finishing it, however she didn’t make it past the first two pages before she started drifting off to sleep. 

A ghostly shiver caused Hermione’s eyes to flutter open, and she looked up at the large circular skylight in the middle of the library. It was nighttime. She watched in awe as several stars sparkled brightly against a black abyss. The simple beauty of it made her realize just how much she missed the night sky. A small smile formed on her lips and before she knew it, she was drifting off to sleep again.

The next thing Hermione knew, she was awakened by the sensation of being lifted. Her eyes slowly cracked open as her head came to rest on Draco’s warm chest as he carried her from the couch to the bedchamber. He then gently set her on the bed and covered her with the warm blankets that were extra toasty from the heat of the fireplace. She watched, brown eyes transfixed, as he peeled his clothes off and slipped into bed with her. 

For a moment she was afraid to move as her head raced. What was he doing? She was keenly aware of how repulsed he was by her. What happened earlier was necessary to forge the contract and that was it. Why on earth would he want her in the same bed as him ever again?

Her thoughts were interrupted when she felt his hard body rest against hers. “Draco.” Hermione’s voice quivered in the darkness. His first name sounded so foreign on her lips. 

She could feel the warmth of his breath on her neck and her body stilled. “Shhh,” He cooed. She felt a strange sense of security when his strong arm curled around her waist, pressing her securely into his body.

“I still remember the first time I saw you,” He confessed in a low voice as he held her.

Hermione’s heart beat wildly in her chest. “On the train?” She asked, remembering the looks of distain he had given her.

“No.” He whispered in the darkness. “Not the first time I noticed you. The first time I really saw you.”

Hermione’s dark brow burrowed. She wasn’t quite sure she understood what he meant. 

“It was fourth year,” He told her, soft lips grazing her neck. “Victor Krum walked into the Yule Ball with you on his arm and I never envied any man more in my life.”

Hermione turned to look him in the eyes unable to believe a word he uttered. 

“You’re lying,” the words seemed to leave her lips on their own accord. He didn’t seem hurt or offended by her accusation.

“The truth is Granger,” He said, silver eyes focused on her frowning mouth. “I’ve wanted to possess you since the moment that clueless weasel left you crying at the foot of the stairs.”


	9. Chapter 9

“The truth is, Granger,” He said, silver eyes focused on her frowning mouth. “I’ve wanted to possess you since the moment that clueless weasel left you crying at the foot of the stairs.”

The girl with wild brown mane and shining topaz orbs looked up at him with a mixture of hurt and confusion. “How did you …”

“I was there,” He revealed. “In the shadows, watching as you let that insignificant fool bring you to your knees.”

Hermione swallowed the lump in her throat. “That was a long time ago.” She told him. How dare he bring up something from her past to try and use against her. He may own her future, but he didn’t own her past. Those were her memories, her experiences, and Ron, damn him, wherever he was now, he was still her friend. 

“I guess you got what you wanted then,” Hot tears fell from her dark lashes and onto her flushed face. 

“I don’t think you’ve been paying close enough attention, Granger,” He told her. His silver eyes flashed dangerously, even in a darkened room. “None of us ever get what we truly want, not even those closest to the Dark Lord.”

Hermione’s eyes blinked with tears. “Do you not possess me now?” she asked from beneath his penetrating hold.

“I wanted a lioness,” He whispered against her lips causing her to tremble. “Not a domesticated house cat.”

With those words Hermione came to understand the wizard above her more intimately than before. Malfoy didn’t want a slave, he wanted a struggle. He didn’t want her to submit, he wanted her teeth, and her claws, and her violent tongue. He wanted a physical challenge and an intellectual equal. Possessing her meant next to nothing if he couldn’t stroke the fire that burned within her. 

“You’re sick.” She hissed, watching the firelight dance across his face.

“You don’t wish to be tamed, Granger,” He told her. “But please, correct me if I’m wrong.”

He was right. She didn’t want to be tamed, but when Voldemort stripped her of everything she held most dear, she decided to pick her battles.

Hermione stood up from the bed. She was starting to feel dizzy. “I don’t understand what you’re implying by saying all of this.”

“You know exactly what I’m implying. What were you expecting to happen when you bound yourself to me? What did you think I wanted, another house elf?”

Hermione’s hands were starting to shake as she paced in front of the fireplace. “I don’t know,” She confessed. She truly didn’t know.

“This isn’t Hogwarts,” He told her. “We aren’t children anymore, the war made sure of that.”

Hermione shut her eyes tight and tried to make sense of what he was saying, “What do you want from me?”

Draco stood up from the bed, “I want you by my side.” He said with a passion she was too scared to believe. 

Hermione looked up at him and shook her head. She was so confused, “By your side?” She repeated with a furrowed brow. “How can I -”

“Mudblood’s who are bound to a wizard hold more power than a pureblood wife,” He explained, tucking a russet curl behind her ear. “There is nothing more intimate, more powerful, than a bonded pair, and I want you to be by my side, and not because I’m forcing you, but because you choose to.”

Hermione opened her mouth to speak but was interrupted by a loud popping noise. It was Inigo.

“Sorry Inigo is disturbing the Masters, but the Parkinson is here,” The elf said with a sour look.


	10. Chapter 10

Draco stood up from the bed, “I want you by my side.” He said with a passion she was too scared to believe.

Hermione looked up at him and shook her head. She was so confused, “By your side?” She repeated with a furrowed brow. “How can I -”

“Mudblood’s who are bound to a wizard hold more power than a pureblood wife,” He explained, tucking a russet curl behind her ear. “There is nothing more intimate, more powerful, than a bonded pair, and I want you to be by my side, and not because I’m forcing you, but because you choose to be.”

Hermione opened her mouth to speak but was interrupted by a loud popping noise. It was Inigo.

“Sorry Inigo is disturbing the Masters, but the Parkinson is here,” The elf said with a sour look.

Parkinson. The name sounded uncomfortably familiar. “Pansy Parkinson?” She asked.

Draco rolled his eyes and turned to the elf. “For Salazar’s sake,” He sighed heavily. “Make her go away.”

“Inigo tried,” The elf said miserably. “It doesn’t listen.” 

Suddenly there was banging at the door, followed by the most ear curdling pleas to be let in.

“You should go to her,” Hermione told him. “Whatever it is, it sounds important.”

“I can promise you, it’s not,” He breathed out in annoyance. “She’s here because she knows about you.”

“Already?”

Draco shrugged. “Word travels fast in elite circles.”

Hermione winced as the girl’s petulant moans grew louder.

“Forget about her for a moment,” Said Draco, taking her hands in his and drawing her attention back to him. “Think about what I just said.”

“I have,” She said, pulling away from him, this time slowly, as if it wasn’t the easiest choice, but the right one, the moral one. “I took a calculated risk in asking to be bound to you. I was so desperate to have even an ounce of control over my life, and believe it or not, despite our past, I am grateful for what you did.” She told him, warm brown eyes brimming with tears. “ You could have left me there to whatever misery fate had designed, but you didn’t. You kept your word. I just … I just wasn’t expecting this…”

“What were you expecting?” He asked gently, so gently she almost forgot he bore the name Malfoy.

Hermione shrugged her shoulders weakly. “In truth, I was prepared to be enslaved, mocked, ridiculed. I thought best case scenario you would become indifferent, grow bored of me, and if anything you’d see me as something you managed to conquer.” Draco watched as the tears fell from her lashes and rolled down her cheek. “But not this. You’re asking me to be an accomplice, to betray everyone I love.”

“That’s not true.” Draco took a step closer and took her face in his hands. “I’m not asking you to raise a shrine in the dark lords honor. I’m asking you to play the hand you’ve been dealt.”

“And what if I can’t learn to love you?” She asked him. 

Draco merely smiled. “Even Hogwarts wasn’t built in a day.”

For the first time in months Hermione felt a small smile tug at the corner of her mouth as she recalled a similar muggle metaphor. “Whose side are you really on?” She asked him as he brushed away her tears with his thumbs.

“Our side,” He whispered before bending his head to capture her lips with his own.


	11. Chapter 11

“And what if I can’t learn to love you?” She asked him.

Draco merely smiled. “Even Hogwarts wasn’t built in a day.”

For the first time in months Hermione felt a small smile tug at the corner of her mouth as she recalled a similar muggle metaphor. “Whose side are you really on?” She asked him as he brushed away her tears with his thumbs.

“Our side,” He whispered before bending his head to capture her lips with his own.

Hermione could have pulled away in that moment. She could have summoned what little constraint she had left until she had more time to sort things out, but she didn’t. Instead she kissed him back with a hunger she wasn’t aware she possessed. Reality slowly slipped away from her as he gently caressed her tongue with his own. She’d all but forgotten the elf in the room and the witch having a nervous breakdown in the darkened hall until Draco pulled away, leaving her lightheaded and in a daze. 

“Inigo,” Draco said, his silver eyes never leaving her face. “It seems Miss. Parkinson has forgotten her place,” He said with an authority that reminded her of his power and influence. “Remind her of what it is.”

Hermione watched as the elf bowed just before disappearing, and if she wasn’t mistaken, there was a faint glimmer of satisfaction in his large glassy eyes. 

“As much as I want to continue what we’ve started,” Draco sighed with an air of restraint as he took a step back from her, “I think it would be best if I stayed in one of the guest rooms for now.”

“But these are your chambers.”

“You need some time to yourself,” He said, almost regretfully. “And these rooms are the most accommodating.”

Hermione nodded her head. He was right. She needed to be alone for a while. She needed time to think, to think about him, to think about her, about what had happened, about what was going to happen. So far, she had more questions than she had answers and she didn’t like the darkness the abyss of uncertainty cast on her. 

After several moments of contemplation, she nodded her head. “Thank you.”

“I have a few things I need to see to tomorrow, but I won’t be away for long,” Draco told her as he went to fetch a few things from his closet. “Inigo will bring you whatever you need to make you more comfortable.” 

“Will I be safe?” She asked as she watched him grab a few of his dress robes. “With you gone, I mean.”

Draco turned to look at her. There was a look in his eyes that she couldn’t quite place, and when he spoke it was with the upmost confidence, as if he’d never been more sure of anything in his life. “There’s never been a safer place for you than right here, not at home with your parents, not at Hogwarts with Dumbledore, not at the Burrow with your friends. This is your home now.”

Hermione wasn’t sure she would ever feel at home ever again. And as much as she wanted to believe that she was finally safe, she couldn’t vanquish the shadow of doubt in her mind. “And how is that possible?” She asked him. Afterall, she was no stranger to the amount of evil that lingered in these halls.

Draco took a step towards her and her eyes fluttered closed as he bent to place a gentle kiss on her forehead. “Because in our new world this is the kingdom of hell,” He whispered. “And you’ve just become its mistress.”


End file.
